Sookie Meets Harper
by VeggieTart
Summary: Harper Connelly is another Charlaine Harris character who appears in a four-book series. At age 15, she was struck by lightning and ever since then, she can sense corpses and determine cause of death. Do check it out. I've tried to avoid spoilers.


It had been a few months since the so-called Fairy War, and while I was recovering physically, I suspected that a part of my psyche would always be damaged. My roomie Amelia had consulted with every witch in her network, as had Holly, my Wiccan coworker, and they strived to make my home a place of healing. My neighbor, the vampire Bill, had fared worse than I. In killing a fairy who had tortured me, he had incurred silver poisoning, and this was far worse than the injuries he'd incurred when the Pyramid of Gizeh was blown up by Fellowship of the Sun terrorists. The Shreveport vampires were doing their best to care for him and heal him, but this was something unprecedented. Still, he was slowly recovering, although he said he felt as weak as a human who'd just broken a week-long fever.

In spite of all this, I still had to work, still had to pay the bills, so I dragged myself out of bed each day and went through my routine almost mechanically. It took almost everything I had to be able to block out the thoughts of the customers, and some days, I would barely have energy to change into my nightie before crawling into bed. On my days off, I managed to cook and freeze casseroles and stews I could heat up if I were so inclined.

I checked the calendar and saw that I was opening and would work until 6:00. That meant fewer customers and fewer tips, but it would also mean less effort to block things. I ate breakfast, changed into my work clothes, and drove the short distance to Merlotte's, the bar I had worked at for most of my adult life. Sam and I greeted each other warmly, if cautiously, and I steeled myself for another day.

The day passed uneventfully. Jason stopped by for lunch, not an uncommon occurrence, and we chatted a bit. I hadn't completely forgiven him for the incident with Calvin, but as he stood up for me when my former friend and now ex-coworker went crazy the night of the revelation; and as he was there for me after the horrifying incident, we were beginning to mend some fences. He gave me a cautious hug before he left, and not just because of my injuries.

Shortly before six, three people walked in, and one was the last person I ever wanted to see. Well, one of the last people I wanted to see. There were other people—or supernaturals—on my list of "people" I never wanted to see, and a certain half-fairy named Dermott was one of them. I probably also would be unamused to see my former boyfriend Quinn stalk into the bar as well, and I hoped he would take the hint after he'd been run off by the local vampires. But the woman in the bar was a Were from Jackson, Mississippi, and she probably would have a score to settle with me until the day one of us died.

Sandra Pelt was standing with a couple about my age, a pale, thin, young woman with grey eyes and a pale young man with acne-scarred skin. Both had dark hair and wore jeans and shirts. I did a quick scan of both of them, and while both appeared to be moderate broadcasters—so they were human, not shifter or any other supernatural creature I had yet to think of—her brain had a layer of static and odd crackles overlaying her thoughts. It sounded sort of like an old scratched record, the sort my parents and my grandmother had listened to.

"What are you doing here, Sandra?"

"I want to find my sister. I need to know where she is."

"That's impossible. I have no idea where she's buried. I've told you all this before."

"This is Harper Connelly," she said indicating the woman. "She sees dead people." The young woman winced at that indelicate turn of phrase.

"She what?"

"I find dead people," the pale woman said. "If you have a general idea where she could be buried, I can look there. I can also usually tell the manner of death…"

"It was self-defense," I said coldly. "She shot at me. I would be the one in a grave if…"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. She tried to kill you," Sandra interrupted, "but I want to take her home where she can be buried with my parents."

"And why should I help you? Haven't you and your sister done enough damage? And as I'm not the one who buried her, I haven't a clue where she might be."

"Who did bury her?" the young man asked.

"His name is Eric. But he's not gonna remember either," I assured them.

"Can we at least talk to him?" the young man persisted.

"Not until after sunset. He's a vampire."

"Oh," Harper said, looking a little nervous. I guess if she can detect dead people, however she does it, she might have an odd reaction around vampires. "I've never met one before, believe it or not. But I should be okay, I guess."

"Great. I'll give you directions. Sandra, you're not coming anywhere near my property. And I don't want to hear from you ever again, no matter what."

I grabbed a piece of paper, scribbled directions and my phone number, and gave it to the young man, whose name I hadn't heard.

"I'll also call Eric and see if he can come over. If not, well, you can search the woods and the cemetery near my home. It's been a long day for me. I have to talk to my replacement before I go."

I walked over to the new server, filled her in, and exited through the back, leaving the odd trio standing near the entrance to Merlotte's.

I drove home trying to control my temper. Angry driving is dangerous driving, and the last thing I wanted was an accident. I also hoped Amelia would not be at home or would be in her rooms upstairs because I really did not want to have to explain this to her. After leaving a message on Eric's voice mail, I found leftovers in the fridge, warmed them up, and ate. I would need strength for the ordeal ahead. As it would be another 45 minutes until sunset and sometime after that until full dark, I changed into clothes suitable for tramping through woods and read from one of my library books while I waited.

Shortly after full dark, my phone rang, and I answered.

"This is Eric. What can I do for you, my lover?"

"Eric, I have a sticky situation. A certain werefox waltzed into Merlotte's shortly before my shift ended. She has these people—well, this woman—who can find corpses. She wants to bring the little would-be murderess home."

"Sookie…"

"Eric, you said you remember everything. Is that only what went on inside the house, or is that everything that happened came back to you?"

"I'm always happy to help _you_, but why should I help that Pelt bitch?"

"Because if we find her sister's bones, she'll never bother us again. Or so she says. She says she wants to have her sister buried with her parents." I wasn't sure what Sandra Pelt's motivation was, but I suspect it wasn't just having her sister buried in Jackson, Mississippi.

There was a long silence during which a human might have sighed. Eric didn't breathe, didn't even pretend to, but I could still sense his presence on the other end of the line.

"Okay, I shouldn't have said I remember _everything_. I only have the vaguest notion of where I might have taken the body. But I'm also happy for any excuse to see you."

"Well, I'd appreciate it if you could help," I said, ignoring the last sentence. Some days our blood bond was just a little too strong for my liking. "I made that very clear that Sandra was not to darken my door."

"Very well. I'll see you in 45 minutes."

"Thanks, Eric."

I put my book back on my bedside table and did a little housecleaning. The house was pretty neat, Amelia being a compulsive cleaner, but this would ease _my_ nerves and keep my mind busy. When the doorbell rang, I saw the young couple had arrived and invited them in.

"He's on his way," I said. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"No, thank you," said the woman—Harper—while her companion shook his head.

"And I don't think I got your name," I said to the man with her.

"Tolliver Lang. I'm her…associate."

"Please sit down." They perched nervously on the sofa. That made three of us.

"Tell me, Harper," I asked, trying to ease the tension, "have you always been able to do this?"

"No. I was struck by lightning when I was 15. It caused all sorts of symptoms the doctors say shouldn't exist, but trust me, other lightning strike victims have symptoms like mine. Except I seem to be the only one who gained this unusual ability. I get a really odd buzz if I'm near a cemetery, and if I'm over where a body has been buried, if it's a violent death, I…it's hard to explain. I sometimes get a bad reaction. This woman died violently?"

"She broke into my home and was waiting when I got home after…after a little gathering." I did not want to try to explain the witch war. "She tried to shoot me. Eric intervened. I grabbed my gun and shot her. I should have called the cops, but we panicked. He buried her and hid her car. I cleaned up."

"And why wouldn't the vampire remember where he buried her?" Tolliver asked.

"He was under a curse when this happened," I said. "It's a very long story, which I really can't explain. All you need to know is he's remembered some things that happened."

The doorbell rang.

As I walked to the door, I could Tolliver fretting, wondering if the candy in the backpack he carried on such jobs would be good or if she would need a Coke after this because violent death caused a bad reaction. _She's going to need something really sweet_, he thought.

Eric stood there, in jeans and a t-shirt. Mr. Casual. I introduced him to Harper and Tolliver and asked if they wanted me to go with.

"It's your property, Sookie," said Harper.

"Okay, then let me grab a few things." I grabbed a jacket and a couple cans of soda from the fridge, and we set out.

After Harper took off her shoes—explaining that it helped her make contact better—Eric led the way through the woodsy area that bordered a stream. The path was familiar, as I sometimes walked the woods when I was in a contemplative mood or just bored, although I hadn't lately. Eric stopped and closed his eyes in concentration. Harper stopped and closed her eyes to try to use, well, I guess it was her other sense.

We wandered through the woods until we found a small clearing. After all this time, there would, of course, be no sign of a disturbance. From the expression on his face, Eric was trying desperately to recall what he had done with the remains of the Were. I suspect he was also wishing he'd finished her off during the little witch skirmish or, better yet, that Bill had had an opportunity to do the job on the way over to what had been the witches' hideout. No, I can't read vampire minds, but I know Eric. He'd taken a bullet for me since he would easily recover, and I wouldn't have.

"They want to be found, you know," Harper said, shattering my reverie. There was a certain sadness, resoluteness coming from her, and I heard a name, Cameron, float through her brain. I wondered if Sandra had told her—if she knew, that is—of my little disability.

We walked a little further, and she stopped. She gasped, and suddenly I was in her mind, in Debbie Pelt's mind, in the last minutes before she shot at me, the last moments of her life. Through Harper, I felt Debbie Pelt smirking, thinking she'd get me good and maybe the damn blond vampire too, too bad she couldn't finish off my ex-lover (Bill). She was especially glad the vampire she helped torture was someone I loved. I felt her hatred for me; she blamed me for Alcide abjuring her, never mind that she had tried to kill me before. She was mad that I had the nerve to go out with Alcide, even though she'd dumped him for some other guy and was celebrating her engagement to him the very night we were at Josephine's together. I had never been able read a Were's mind very clearly unless one deliberately thought something at me, but now I was doing it secondhand, and it was frightening. I might need a soda after this, too. I was too late to disengage our minds and felt, through Harper's mind, the bullet tear through Debbie's upper body. It all had happened so fast.

Harper gasped again, more of a thin shriek, and dropped to her knees, whether from the buzz she got from corpses, the violence that had occurred, or the ugly snarl of Debbie's thoughts, I don't know. I reached in my jacket pocket, found one of the cans of soda I'd brought along, popped it open, and put it in her hands while her companion fumbled in his backpack.

"Here," I said, "drink this." I knelt next to her because I feared my knees would buckle next.

"How did you know?" she asked, taking the can from me. I opened the second can for myself and began drinking.

"I'm telepathic, didn't Sandra tell you?"

"No, she didn't. Have you always been…"

"Yes."

"Oh."

The young man grabbed a wire with a flag, stuck it in the ground—to mark the location?—and bent to put his arms around his companion, encouraging her to drink the soda, which would help her recovery. He seemed very solicitous of her, as if they were more than just associates. I edged away from them, but still knelt. He clearly had experience with this sort of thing.

"Why was she in your house?" Tolliver asked.

"She was angry at me. She blamed me for being abjured by a fellow Were. She didn't like that I went out with the guy she dumped, even though we were nothing more than friends. She was a bitter, vicious woman, and her sister is no better. What you do now is up to you. I'm going home."

I walked slowly back through the woods, not caring if any of them followed me. I don't know if this is how she always felt after finding corpses, but if it was, I felt sorry for her. She clearly used her gift for a living, something that would drive me insane. When I got back to my house, I saw a figure sitting on my porch and wasn't sure whether to smile or groan.

"Hello, Sookie," said Bill, "what have you been doing in the woods tonight?"


End file.
